if I had gained a new friend. When I read a book I have peruse

ailing fashions, local-colour variations, and a few more or less permanent models is noticeable to such a degree that an observer might conclude motley

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ividualism, with courage and restraint, lay bare the fashion, and where then is its habitation or what is its name? Such judgment sets up more or less arbitrary lines of taste that run wide, and it makes a guess at what is enduring literature, a hazardous kind of guess. Yet the peculiar

and generally those "volumes which no gentleman's library should be without" as being books. If to these were added those books which no gentleman's library should contain, we come to a field fairly easy of investigation. In other words, we must get back to that field that includes the literature of power rather than the literature

real merit because it becomes the best seller of a season; nor is it to be condemned for the very reason that it is a best seller. However, the general praise of a hundred thousand readers is not so much an index to the book's merit as the book is an index to the character of the reade

ected. On being asked what dish he preferred at a dinner, Thoreau said, "The nearest." That was in keeping with his theory of cutting down the denominator; the theory of the reader of the latest is one of multiplying the numerator. As the proper thing, each new book is taken, horns, hide, and tallow. The reader's reverence for the present grows apace, and he no longer has use for old wine, old friends, and old books. This is a reflection of a widespread impression in American life that up to the present time but little

ary criticism for the reading public. He at once discovers that the college sophomore who wrote a particular story is another Thackeray in style. Then in turn a Dickens or a Balzac is found out. Finally the news is passed on the R

e years of the boy whose veins are full of red blood, and putting it on a dissecting table for the study of etymology and syntax. He must know fairly well the boy's likes and dislikes and remember that they are very strong. And he must also remember that the boy is joined to his idols, and these are not to be broken until better ones are substituted. Iconoclasm fo

r books. To do this, he must work along two lines: discourage overreading and encourage ownership in books. The practice of overreading is the worst reading practice in modern life. Like all extremism, it is hard to meet. It is as unpopular to oppose unlimited reading as it is to oppose unlimited charity or unlimited education; yet they all need to be carried out in moderation. The aim should be the mastery of a few good books and the discouragement of the passion for constant variety that indicates a lack of singleness of purpose through a lack of self-control a

e way or other a reading and a rereading of them be secured. It is not meant that reading is never to depart from this seemingly arbitrary standard. That would be at least prudish, to say nothing of its being impracticable. What is meant is that such things as comic supplements, at once stupid, silly, and debauching to both the intellectual and the artistic tastes, should be kept from all boys. The daily newspaper with its sensational head-lines telling of crimes is as bad, and the schoolboy has no business with it at all. But maybe the practice most widespread and fatal to an appreciation of books of real worth and power is the addiction to "juveniles" in the ever issuing series. If he has drunk to excess of these, the boy will have hopelessly weakened his ability ever to appreciate anything great. He will never be able to warm to the powerful deeds of Odysseus, Hector, or Joshua-he will be only a tolerable but proper grown-up. In the face of these and many more hindrances, reading will have to

aid teachers and parents in selecting books for their children. It is enough to know that the verdict of time has been rendered in favour of such books as "The Arabian Nights' Entertainments," "Robinson Crusoe," and "Gulliver's Travels." A knowledge of such books is fundamental to any one who is ambitious to master the elements of English literature. And the mere fact that he knows them well will

ckeray until two or three years after they have cast their first vote. Neither author is adapted to a beardless youth. But then we have that wonderful pair of story-tellers, Scott and Stevenson! What boy can resist them or would ever think of trying to do so? If Margaret Ogilvy would not lay down a book of "that Stevenson man" until she had found out how the laddie got out of the barrel, do you suppose that a boy with adventurous blood in his veins could do so? Though the best test for a child's book is the fact that it has charms for the grown-up, he would certainly be foolish who would insist that the great books for mature men and women be read in youth. It is

of "Mother Goose's Melody" compiled by Oliver Goldsmith for John Newbery about 1765, which contained the "most celebrated songs and lullabies of the old British nurses, calculated to amuse children and incite them to sleep." To own such a quaint edition would surely be a delight. Nearly as quaint and delightful, especially the illustrations, is the "Only True Mother Goose Melodies" now reprinted from the Boston edition of 1839. Of the editions of recent years there are many good ones, the one appearing under the title of "National Rhymes of the Nursery" having superior illustrations by Leslie Brooke, but being marred by an artificial arrangement. If some artist with the genius of Cruikshank would give a few of the best years of his life to illustrating a complete collection of these rhymes, he would become a benefactor of childhood. And if such an edition

the delightful first chapter of "The Newcomes," Thackeray tells us that long ages before ?sop, asses under lions' manes roared in Hebrew, sly foxes flattered in Etruscan, and wolves in sheep's clothing gnashed their teeth in Sanscrit. They are a common inheritance for childhood. The English-speaking child has a number of very good col

bound in limp leather would not be a child's book. Coloured illustrations are not necessary; children like a few lines in black and white; but it is necessary to have the book a kind of "ponderous tome." Then it can be read on the floor while it rests on the boy's knees as he sits cross-legged before the fire; or, better still, while he lies on his belly, his chin in his hands and his

-illustrated English translation. On account of their humour and their common everyday tone, the English household and folk tales will make a strong appeal. Scudder's "Folk Stories," S. Baring-Gould's "Old English Fairy Tales," an

erman fireside, there should be owned a good translation of the romantic and refined tales of the North, the fairy tales of Hans Christian Andersen. To these stories are many excellent illustrations, including those of Stratton, Tegner, and Dulac. It may not be possible and maybe not desirable to own editions of the tales of D'Aulnoy, Laboulaye, Hauff, and others, for the best of their stories may be found in some compilations. Among these are "Mother Goose Nursery Tales" issued by N

its spell on Coleridge, for he wrote: "Give me the 'Arabian Nights' Entertainments' which I used to watch, till the sun shining on the bookcase appeared, and, glowing full upon it, gave me the courage to take it from the shelf." And was it not this book that made wonderful little Marjorie Fleming willing to sleep at t

clever and curious nonsense? What mathematician other than Dodgson ever put before boys and girls such enduring work? It is a case where two and two does not always make four, but it does always make the pleasing thing. Much that goes as serious literature is not half so wise as is the playfulness of this book, nor is it

full responsibility of life, a keen sense of humour is about the only thing that will save a man from himself at times, preserve his balance when he is nearing the borderland of tragedy. Now what is to be the nature of this humour? Is it to be the insipid burlesque that finds its pleasure in the medical almanac and the comic supplement? Or is it to be the kind that wears the sock with br

o prefer nonsense of a refined type, innocent and fantastic verse. A book of this kind that he will take a fancy to is Edward Lear's "Nonsense Songs"; and if it is the edition illustrated by Leslie Brooke, he will be grateful when a nonsense mood is on him. Ruskin called it the most beneficent and innocent of all nonsense books. The boy might start with this book, go to "Alice's Adventures in Wond

and about the only one on such a theme. Nearly all others of this kind are prudish, priggish, and inartistic. This one happens to have a loftiness of tone. Its style is as charming as this whimsical title: "The Hi

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or intend to be good" ought to convince him. Intend to be good, was not that Goldsmith-and the rest of us? An edi

ouch than from the ordinary telling of text-books. For this reason he should completely master these two books by Hawthorne. The illustrated edition of the former by Walter Crane and George Wharton Edwards' illustrations of the latter are both fine. Not so good as these two, yet necessary, is Charles Kingsley's "Heroes; or, Greek Fairy Tales for My Children." And the telling of the story of the Odyssey by Charles Lamb in his "Adventures of Ulysses" is good to read, but rather difficult before the last year of the grammar grades

ed normal boy. If there is, he is a victim of the emasculating process of sugar-coated teaching, parental indulgence, and vaudeville amusement. Or maybe he has the habit of the boy's series, that cuts all characters to the same fashion, the fashion of prudery. In either case he will never be a pilgrim. Of course it would be foolish to insist on a boy's reading many such books, even if there were more like it written. You might as well in

ues in experience, such as the virtues of prudence, ingenuity, and patience. But for all this it is one of the most fascinating and typical of English stories, and one of t

t children read it with pleasure without seeing anything in it but the interesting adventures of Gulliver. Of course, the voyages to Lilliput and to Brobdingnag are the only ones to be given to the boy, and it is unfortunate that publisher

legends and the Robin Hood stories. Among the many books that have appeared, the excellent work done by the poet Lanier in his "Boy's King Arthur" and by the late artist Howard Pyle should surely find a place on every boy's book shelf. Much of Malory is retained in the former, and

ged to attempt "A Midsummer-Night's Dream," "The Tempest," and "King Henry V." At about the age of twelve or fourteen years he should own a good illustrated edition in one volume such as the one done by Sir John Gilbert. But be this as it may, he has a right to get something of a glimpse o

radual. It might start in the second grade with Kate Greenaway's edition of "Dame Wiggins of Lee and Her Seven Wonderful Cats; a Humorous Tale Written Principally by a Lady of Ninety," and Caldecott's "John Gilpin's Ride." This could be followed with Kate Greenaway's or Hope Dunlap's "Pied Piper of Hamelin." And all children must have Stevenson's "A Child's Garden of Verses" with illustrations by either Florence Edith Storer or Jessie Wilcox Smith. Eugene Field's "Poems of Childhood," illustrated by Maxfield Parrish, deserves a place, as does the dainty volume of Blake's "Songs of Innocence," illustr

they are not issued in a single volume. Where was there ever a more intense or dramatic story written than "Red Dog"? How does it happen that teachers seldom give these stories to children, but manage to waste plenty of good time on insipid,

"The Prince and the Pauper" and "Treasure Island." If he is not at once interested in that plot based on the universal desire to change lots with some one else, or the universal longing to find a hidden treasure, he either has perverted taste

ssay, is beyond the schoolboy. And so is much of biography and history. But there can be found for him to read many books, such as "Tales of a Grandfather," "A Child's History of England," Southey's "Life of Nelson," "Two Years Before the Mast," "The Oregon Trail," Franklin's "Autobiography," and some good abridgment of "Plutarch's Lives," that make an order of books different from "Robinson Crusoe," "Pilgrim's Progress," and "Arabian Nights' Entertainments"; yet they ought to be read after a few of the greater ones have been mastered. Many a boy may be gre

t only their faith but also that grip on racy, clear, and vigorous English that made many an artisan a better talker and writer than the man trained in the halls of higher learning. It has had a power above all other books in English to stir the imagination and move the soul, and this without regard to any particular religious belief. No book has ever told stories with the ease, directness, and intensity of this

grip on the halter, he will be drinking before he is aware of it. In fact, he may need to be led away at times to keep him from drinking too much. The business of the school teacher is to get the boy to the trough and then see that he does not drink too much. This will be a thing of effort, for

land," Jacobs' "English Fairy Tales," Stevenson's "A Child's Garden of Verses," Scudder's "The Children's Book"; fourth grade-Grimm's "Fairy and Household Tales," Andersen's "Fairy Tales," Browne's "Granny's Wonderful Chair," Thackeray's "The Rose and the Ring"; fifth grade-Hawthorne's "The Wonder-Book for Girls and Boys" and "Tanglewood Tales for Girls and Boys; a Second Wonder-Book," Kingsley's "Heroes; or, Greek Fairy Tales for My Children," Swift's "Gulliver's Travels into Several Remote Nations of the World," Kipling's "The Jungle Book" and "The Second Jungle Book"; sixth grade-"Arabian Nights'

state. For no work in a finishing school or in college English can ever give him what he will get of his own accord by having good books as his companions during his public school life. Let him try th